Return
by CSIvHP11
Summary: The Astrolabe didn't work and Myka finally makes it back to South Dakota.


**Warehouse 13**

**The Astrolabe didn't work, nothing was fixed, much was lost.**

**I posted something on tumblr not long ago about what would have happened if the Astrolabe had failed, and it wouldn't let me go, so now you all get this.**

She looked down into the valley.

The structure wasn't as impressive as the one that had stood in the same spot nearly a decade earlier. Not nearly as impressive. In fact, not impressive at all.

It looked like, well, a warehouse. Just a plain warehouse. An argument could be made for a self-storage unit.

Still, it had to be what she was looking for; there were no other buildings anywhere nearby, for miles, in every direction.

If there was any hope left in the world, the sight of the dilapidated building would have raised hers.

Instead, it just gave her knowledge. The knowledge that some of the people she had once called family were still alive. The knowledge that they were well enough to somewhat continue their work. The knowledge that they had left her to rot.

Regardless, they were still the only connections she had left to her previous life. So, she hefted her bag into a more secure position on her shoulders and started down the ridge and into the valley.

The walk down wasn't as long as it looked and she was soon standing at the door to the warehouse. She raised a hand to knock, but faltered.

What if they didn't want her back? What if there was a reason they hadn't found her?

She took a deep breath and flicked open the box next to the door instead. She stared at the keypad for a few moments. Four of the buttons were more faded than the rest.

She quickly ran through the possible combinations until she found one that made sense.

The date Claudia had abducted Artie.

Her mouth quirked slightly at the edges, as if remembering what it was like to smile.

She punched the number in and the lock clicked. Her fingers flexed around the handle as she pulled the door open.

She took a few moments to observe the hallway she could only assume was meant to reflect the umbilicus.

It was a sad attempt, in truth. The dark grey walls were a far cry from the stark white ones and the door on the other end was just a few meters away.

Just a pale imitation of what once was.

Shaking her head, she strode into the hallway, crossing the distance in just a few steps.

When she reached the second door, she noticed the first real similarity: the eye scanner on the wall.

Praying to a god she didn't believe in, she stepped to the device, eye open wide.

She let out a relieved breath when the familiar beep sounded and the door swung open on its own. She slid through the door and was hit by strong nostalgia.

The office looked eerily similar to Arties before the explosion; a tad smaller, maybe, but decorated with the same style.

She ran her hand over the back of a rolly chair as she walked towards the final door between her and what used to be her life.

She pressed her hand flat against the wood, unsure if she was actually able to open the door. That life seemed so far away, so long ago, too painful to face.

Taking deep breaths, she stepped back from the door. She could just leave. Leave and return to isolation. Leave and become lost again.

She turned, ready to abandon her mission, then froze as the door opened.

She heard a sharp gasp, then metal against metal and a tesla charging.

"Who are you?"

The voice was older than when she had last heard it. It was heavier and slower. She couldn't imagine it rambling on or falling into a pit of techno-babble.

"Turn around."

It took her mind a few moments to recognize the English words. After ten years in an Italian prison she had grown accustomed to speaking, listening, thinking in Italian.

"Now."

Slowly, she turned, raising her hands slightly, palms out.

She was surprised when she had to look down to look into Claudia's eyes. The girl – well, she wasn't exactly a girl any more – was in an electronic wheelchair, her legs covered with a fleece blanket.

"My…Myka?" Claudia stuttered.

"Hello, Claudia."


End file.
